


Wilson's New Glasses

by bethctg



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethctg/pseuds/bethctg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House has a strong reaction to Wilson's new reading glasses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wilson's New Glasses

"Stop staring at me."

"I wasn't staring at you."

"Yes, you were. I can feel it, you know."

"And next you'll be telling me you can see dead people."

"Didn't I tell you? I specifically asked for the "dead people" lens option when I ordered this pair."

Wilson was right, though. House had been staring at him. It was those new reading glasses of Wilson's.

Wilson was seated on the floor, back propped against the front of House's leather sofa. He was reading a paperback copy of Whitman's _Leaves of Grass_, one of the many books he'd purchased earlier in the evening. He'd dragged House out with him on a kind of celebratory trip to the bookstore in honor of his new glasses. It was nice to be able to read a book again without having to squint or hold his books out at weird angles.

At first, Wilson had been uncomfortable with the idea of reading glasses; they'd felt like a harbinger of old age, something for which he wasn't quite ready. Even worse, though he hated to admit it (even to himself), he worried a little bit about how he would look in them. It wasn't that he cared so much about what anyone thought; the simple fact was that he didn't want House to think he looked awful in them. He'd caught House staring at him a lot since he'd picked them up from the optometrist's, and it was making him very nervous.

Wilson needn't have worried.

House had had no idea, before yesterday, just how sexy he found glasses on a person. Or maybe it was just glasses on _Wilson_. Whatever. The glasses had silver wire rims, and lenses that were kind of rectangle-shaped. They made House want to do all kinds of kinky things, least of which was stripping Wilson naked - except for the glasses - and going at him like a crazed animal.

"Is it getting hot in here?" House asked aloud, to his own surprise.

"How can you be hot? It's below freezing outside. And you're eating ice cream."

House was laying across the sofa eating Ben &amp; Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough out of a pint container. Wilson was right. In only his jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt, House should have felt chilly eating the ice cream - but he didn't.

He stole another glance at Wilson who was seated on the floor beside him. From this angle, the vee in Wilson's white button-down shirt allowed him an awfully nice peek at Wilson's smooth chest, which was, at this moment, rising up and down more pronouncedly as he became more and more engrossed in his poetry. Wilson got excited by certain poets, House knew. He'd been glad when Wilson picked up the Whitman in the store - it likely meant a lucky night for him.

Wilson could feel House staring at him again, and he found himself breathing a little heavier because of it. He was also having a hard time concentrating on the book: he'd read the same passage four times now. He shook his head slightly in an effort to clear it, and sharply blew out a breath in an upward motion, ruffling the hair hanging over his forehead.

House quirked a little smile at the gesture, knowing it meant that Wilson was distracted. He decided to have a little fun.

Wilson heard House scraping away at the ice cream carton. He was about to become annoyed, but the next thing he knew, a spoon moved into his peripheral vision - House was offering him a bite.

House watched Wilson slowly turn his head, eyes still on the Whitman. Wilson opened his mouth slightly to allow the spoon entrance, and then closed it. After a couple of seconds, House leisurely pulled the spoon free.

As soon as Wilson felt the huge lump of cookie dough through the melted ice cream, he became suspicious - getting the cookie dough bits away from House was usually harder than getting him to give up the remote control. The man was a selfish eater. He wanted something; and knowing House's appetites, Wilson could fairly easily figure out what that something might be.

"Good, huh?" House asked.

"Mm-hmm..." Wilson managed around the mouthful of ice cream. He intentionally allowed his tongue to slide out and lick the corner of his mouth that was visible to House. Then he sighed a bit and turned the page of his book, even though he hadn't read a sentence on it.

House frowned. Wilson could be reading that stupid book all night. He'd have to try a different approach.

Wilson felt House's fingers gently ruffling through the hair at the back of his neck, something House knew drove him wild. This wasn't going to be easy.

It had, of course, occurred to Wilson that playing hard to get was hurting him just as much as it was hurting House, but he couldn't help it. House had a way of bringing out Wilson's competitive side, no matter how ridiculous the situation.

"That's nice," Wilson murmured, in response to House's touch. He made sure to keep on "reading", though.

This provoked an exasperated eye roll from House who was mighty glad, at that second, that Wilson was too busy with the book to notice. And what the hell could possibly be so interesting, anyway? He reached behind him and put the ice cream carton down on the side table.

"Read to me."

Wilson was taken off guard by the demand, and not just because he hadn't actually been reading. He glanced up at House to make sure he wasn't mocking him in some maddening "House" way, and when House just calmly looked back at him, he gave a small smile and turned back to his book.

"Okay, let's see..." Wilson looked down and was pleasantly surprised to find one of his favourite passages laid out before him. He smoothed the page a bit, and began to read.

_"I stand with drooping eyes by the worstsuffering and the restless,  
I pass my hands soothingly to and fro a few inches from  
them;  
The restless sink in their beds....they fitfully sleep..."_

Though there was admittedly something very appealing about the tone of Wilson's reading voice, House barely listened as Wilson continued on with his endless poem. Oddly enough, it seemed to be about everyone and their grandmother sleeping, and all House wanted to do was, well - sleep with Wilson. The sooner the better, actually. He moved both of his hands down to Wilson's neck and shoulders, gently kneading.

Wilson continued reading, but he found that it was getting harder to hide the fact that he was not immune to the feel of House's hands stroking along the back of his neck. His voice cracked a bit at one point, but he cleared his throat and kept going.

The sexiness of Wilson's voice cracking was only a distant second to the glasses, as far as House was concerned. He moved a bit closer to the edge of the sofa to allow his arm to dip down into the front of Wilson's shirt. He ran his hand down over Wilson's chest, and dropped his head to nuzzle his ear, eliciting a low moan from Wilson.

Wilson let the book drop to his lap, and he turned to meet House's lips in a heated kiss.

House chuckled softly when he felt Wilson whimper against his mouth.

"Bastard," Wilson breathed between kisses. He suddenly remembered the glasses and reached up to get them out of his way, but House's hand stopped him.

"Leave them."

Wilson blinked, surprised. "Is that so?" he teased, feeling more than a bit like he had the upper hand again. Then House reclaimed his mouth in a kiss so hot and demanding that Wilson gladly surrendered - there would be plenty of time to torment House later...


End file.
